


Quiet Room

by Freakingoutdontyoumeanfreakingin



Category: Original Work
Genre: A corpse - Freeform, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Non-Linear Narrative, Unreliable Narrator, crazy psychopathic killers, i am.... a meme, i modeled it after ray bradbury i guess, i wrote this instead of working on schoolwork due in two day my god i've had weeks, inspired by a vocaloid song, lol whenever am i linear in my timelines, my first! i'm so proud, never- anyway!, prose? poetry? idk, subconsciously- i wrote this all subconsciously, the recommended tags will give me nightmares for month sweet jésus, y'all? why you gotta be like this in front of my salad, y'know i coulda dropped my croissant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 22:24:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21023210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freakingoutdontyoumeanfreakingin/pseuds/Freakingoutdontyoumeanfreakingin
Summary: “It’s too quiet in here.”song is Quiet Room by uki3/ewe covered by Rachie





	Quiet Room

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my lovely girlfriend](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+lovely+girlfriend).

_“Calling out, I don't make a sound, the words are falling from my mouth but they all disappear.”_  
He, not for the first time, found him shoved into a room. A girl his age, about 12, was sitting in a corner. She was playing with her toys, and Riley had a muzzle. According to law neither were allowed contact. He stepped in, his handcuffs and all, to sit in the opposite corner. At least there were books.  
_“It’s too quiet in here.”_  
Time was blurring together, honestly, and they still hadn’t spoken. He couldn’t remember the sound of his own voice at this point. This was too quiet for his taste. A special kind of torture.  
_“Again another sad attempt only ends in tears,”_  
He was trying to get the muzzle off, and he was trying to make her talk, and neither were happening. The world was spinning, ohmygodisthatherheartbeat,WHYohwhy, helppleasesomeone- help me breathe! One panic attack, two, please speak, just break the silence. Again his breathing becomes unhealthy, and again he hears nothing.  
_“I know, you already knew it though.”_  
…. Years pass. Neither speak.  
_“It happens breakfast, lunch, and dinner. There isn’t any flavour, can't savour. It tastes like it’s all made out of paper.”_  
There’s a routine now, though they just have someone use a power to teleport food to his mouth so they don’t give him any chances. Apathy overtakes everything, and he falls listless. The guards express concern, and the room is again too quiet for his taste.  
_“I fell into a puddle, tripping over lies as I went off sprinting off into the night.”_  
He escapes at age 15, and he uses this time to run around. A spark of life is returned, and again he is released. He’s not caught, and the girl is nowhere to be found. He meets friends, attends school, and falls in love. He has a childhood.  
_“Letting out a cry, tears were pouring down her eyes. "I'm breaking down inside, I can't do this anymore!"_  
He witnesses a close friend attempt suicide, and pulls her back. The school roof has never looked so terrifying. He loves it. The girl is now a close friend to his 3am sessions. Therapy…..?  
_“I looked to the floor and told her all that I know; "The feeling fades, just wait a little more." ”_  
He tries… has tried. He leaves them in a while, true. His friend is dead, they say. Grieving. Panic attacks become closer than ever. The pair move to a new town. He is safe… almost.  
_“Surrounded by a crowd alive was us on a seesaw. Exhausted but our hearts together smiled. ”_  
It’s become a popular pastime of his and hers to go to the abandoned playground. They laugh, converse, and have a fun time amidst the stares of others. It’s okay, he thinks, and he almost believes it. It’s raining but who cares? The April showers are gone, it is May’s time to shine.  
_“That’s when we saw.. They lit up the night, our tears were sparkling like lights, that make the stars shine bright.”_  
Another friend dies, and another town greets him.  
_“C'mon, c'mon, c'mon and follow me!_  
_We'll swim towards the darkness_  
_at the bottom of the sea._  
_Just like the love we hold,_  
_Let’s hold hands and never let go!_  
_If you're here, let’s take it slow.”_  
He and her fall into love with scrunched eyes and noses, and she understands when he says he needs to move. Yet another dead body appears on the news as he’s watching television weeks later, and she worries about him.  
_“We'll tip, and toe_  
_along this winding road._  
_While taking off our shoes,_  
_we’ll keep on going with the flow._  
_So keep your eyes locked on mine,_  
_and don't look away_  
_If you're here, can you promise you'll.._  
_stay?”_  
She and him, he and her, they are in love and it is a wonderful thing. Today is the day.  
He proposes. She accepts. Another dead friend appears found.  
_“Even if I couldn't remember what we were together, I’d still be reaching my hand, just to hold you again.”_  
It’s bliss, truly, and he enjoys every second of it. The jitteriness of panic leaves for this time. They do not have kids, as he’s infertile, but they love and that is enough. “Follow me,” she says, joyous and exuberant and his, and he does. “Let’s hold hands and never let go!”  
_“But even if those happy days went past today they'd have to end so..._  
_But I already knew it though.”_  
Slowly something shifts in him, though life has never been better. Today seems to be gorgeous, but the news announces something much less so. His wife… his wife is on the news, and she is the cotton covered corpse of death. He feels cheated.  
_“It doesn’t matter what I’m dreaming, come morning when I’m eating, repeating._  
_It tastes like it's made out of paper…”_  
He’d sent her off with nothing, hadn’t he? He’d been almost bored, listless, the apathy of that time returning in earnest.  
_“I came home with a fever, realising I was getting sick and tired of married life.”_  
He’d married again, but she was bothering him. His friends’ and now others' corpses appeared daily. A serial killer, they say, and for 2 decades now.  
_“Running far away, he was trying to escape._  
_"I'm hurting everyday,_  
_could you tell me what to do?"_  
_I looked him in the eye,_  
_and said the one thing I knew;_  
_“Love was never meant for me and you.” ” _  
He looked the mirror in the eyes and renounced his last name. He took hers. The serial killer rose in unpopularity, and he flourished while his town burned.  
“This rush we feel is lonely, and we're just so exhausted  
of dealing with the problems that we don't wanna solve yet.”  
Everyday life is tedious without her, he sees, and everything hurts. Everything is beautiful and yet… everything hurts. No, nothing hurts. He dare not sully her memory, but he does. He is a mess. A masterpiece of one, a mess-terpiece.  
_“I'm reaching for you over the fireworks of water separating us two.”_  
And just like that everything is confusing, but the knife looks so much better in blood red and he looks so much better in stripes. Never vertical, however, that clashes terribly.  
_“Away, away, just watch it drift away._  
_Escaping high above,_  
_what’s left of our younger days._  
_"Hey can you remember_  
_what we swore on that night?"_  
_I'll repeat it, one more time.”_  
He dissociates, his apartment is unkempt at best, and everything is gorgeous.  
“Along, along, this long and lonely life. I'm looking for a love that’s close enough to stay in sight.”  
He stalks now, but his health is fine. Any other narratives are straight, he reasons, so what’s the harm in one that swirls. A tidepool he reserves for him, and the librarian kicks him out when he states this.  
_“But if tonight’s gonna be the last that I'm spending with you..._  
_I can maybe..._  
_tell the truth…”_  
Everything is jagged to him now, and he needs it to stop. His bathtub is pink now, and hospital bills rival the ones from the CVS near him, and he can measure those by yard! He’s accomplished his unreliable and nonlinear goal, he thinks.  
_“It’s slowly crumbling away,_  
_It’s slowly crumbling away._  
_The rainy Saturday in May was slowly turning to grey.”_  
_He never thought it would take so long, honestly, but the apathy has returned. _  
_“It’s slowly spilling away,_  
_It’s slowly spilling away._  
_The tears I cried that lonely night_  
_are what you see here today.”_  
Slowly, ever so, he slips away. His corpse and her gravestone are both a lovely gray, he thinks, and the apartment vents release an equally lovely Carbon Monoxide mist. It is identified as the last hurrah of the serial killer. The red coming from his horizontally sliced nerves and tendons and flesh are so ugly compared.  
_“Hurry up, _  
_Hurry up,_  
_Hurry up!_  
_Disappear, I had enough_  
_The game is up!_  
_You never told me the truth in the end.._  
_So don't say a word and_  
_wait till I come back again.”_  
He’s gone from this world but his marks are not, nor will they ever be.  
_“C'mon, c'mon, c'mon and follow me!_  
_We'll swim into the darkness_  
_at the bottom of the sea._  
_Just like the love we hold,_  
_Let’s hold hands and never let go!_  
_If you're here, just take it slow._  
_We'll tip, and toe_  
_along this winding road._  
_While taking off our shoes,_  
_let's keep on going with the flow._  
_So keep your eyes locked on mine,_  
_and don’t look away_  
_If you're here, can you promise you'll.._  
_stay.....?”_  
**Obituaries: Section *****  
**….**  
**Jasper Poe, serial murderer. Left suicide note detailing mass graves and hiding places. Found next to the grave of Annabelle Pre, his wife of 12 years. Had a brief stint in **** Mental Hospital after his diagnosis of schizophrenia and depression at age 10, but escaped at age 15. Went missing, presumably, and now is known to have returned to be the Nonlinear serial murderer. 19*** May 12, Monday - 2***, May 12, Saturday.**

**Author's Note:**

> this is what happens when i do a writing exercise with a song. i swear i've never done this before... forgive me ;-;


End file.
